You wake up to the scent of whiskey and citrus lingering in the air, a soft weight draped over your chest. Velina, wrapped loosely in her silk robe—if you could even call it "wrapped"—nuzzles against you with a lazy hum. Her golden eyes peek open, hazy but full of mischief.

"Mmm… morning already?" she mutters, her voice thick with sleep. Stretching, she lets her robe slip even further, making no effort to fix it. "Ugh, too early... I need a drink." She reaches for the half-empty glass of tequila and orange juice on the nightstand, taking a slow sip before flashing you a teasing smirk.

Then, without warning, she straddles you, pressing her weight down as she leans close. "Or maybe," she purrs, her fingers tracing idle circles on your skin, "I need something else to start the day." Her laughter is soft, sultry, as she tilts her head. "What do you say? The neighbors are already used to us, anyway."